"Close your eyes, Ana. It's my turn to be invisible."
She did.
He stroked her brows and ruffled her eyelashes, making her face twitch. Then, gliding lower, first over the bridge of her nose and then the curve of her mouth. His touch was warm and heavy, like the sun at three o'clock. He only wanted to learn her, a sculptor discovering his muse.
Anne smiled and lifted her face, wanting more of his gentle caresses.
Palms cradled her cheeks, and then his breaths came impossibly closer. Anne's heart lurched against her rib cage and then halted. Outside her closed eyelids, the gulls stopped screeching. The waves hushed, and the boat stilled as if airborne.
Warm and firm, his lips joined with hers. A kiss. She breathed in the cedar of his skin, heated by the sun, and it inflated her lungs until she became weightless. If he were not holding her, she would have floated away. Anne held still while his heart thudded close to hers, reveling in the texture of his lips, wishing this moment would last forever.
Something moist traced her lips, and the chaste kiss became more. Pedro embraced her, caressing the ridges of her spine. Anne leaned into him, wanting her hands free so she could sift her fingers through his hair.
He kissed the line of her jaw, and then he touched his tongue to her neck, just below her ear. It was shocking, and she should protest. Instead, she dropped her head back, swaying closer to him. Coherent thoughts sank in the rush of warmth flooding her chest, her limbs.
He trailed his caresses lower, down the curve of her breasts, to press at her waist. Then his palms flattened her dress against her thigh and lifted her knee. The sudden movement robbed her balance, and she leaned on the bulkhead, pressing against her bound hands. She was open to him, and he claimed every inch, moving against her with thrilling intensity. He possessed her mouth, his tongue insistent, invading, seeking. The whirlwind threatened to consume her, making her lightheaded.
If this was ruination, she was beyond caring.
Then it stopped. Where once they touched everywhere, now there was only air.
Would he remove the binding and allow her to touch him? She waited for another heartbeat, but she heard only wood groaning and the ruffling of sails.
"Pedro?"
No answer.
She opened her eyes. The library was empty. She was alone. Invisible.
Chapter 21
Pedrostrodeoutofthe library, blood pounding in his temples. He had almost taken Anne against the bulkhead like a common trollop. Fists clenched by his sides, chest about to explode, he halted on the quarterdeck.
Cris and Dante crossed the raised bridge, their easy banter proof of their well-being.
"Finally. What news?" Pedro snapped.
The first mate saluted him, beret clasped in his right hand, and sped to the crew’s quarters. Cris approached with narrowed eyes, no doubt taking in Pedro’s loose hair and opened coat. For once, his brother's clothes were less disheveled than his. "Something happened in my absence?"
Something had happened, indeed. Pedro had lost control, and his insides still clamored for her. She hummed in his veins, invading his senses. Was it not enough to have her image burned inside his eyelids? He was to have her contours imprinted on his palms? Her taste? By Saint George, she was not sweet. The ridiculous adjective could not describe her layers, spiced, fresh, heated...
Pedro rubbed his neck. "That wasn't my question."
Cris frowned. "We asked around for the bodyguard’s address, but the house was deserted. He must have escaped."
"Merda." He should have known there would be no simple solution to this.
Gripping the yacht's railings, Pedro stared outside. The moored boats prepared for the night, their cooking fires leaving the air acrid. The rope tying theDawn Chaserto the pier strained and relaxed with the swelling and ebbing of the dark water. Pedro's gut churned, his feet unable to find a place of stability. He needed out of here.
Cris's face split into a mischievous grin. "No need to curse yet. I've asked around. One of the tavern barmaids, a favorite of the bodyguard, visited him at the beach of São Jacinto."
Pedro knew the terrain, ten miles north of here, a stretch of dunes and river marshes delimited by the ocean on the west and the Aveiro's Ria lagoon to the east. Pedro gazed at the setting sun. The place was too treacherous to travel by night.
"We leave at dawn." Pedro exhaled and closed his eyes. "I can't spend another second inside this cursed boat."
"So it seems." Cris raised his brows. "We'll find the wayward bodyguard tomorrow. Tonight, we can hunt for other prey, eh? Aveiro's entertainment is quite agreeable. And judging by your state, you need it."
Pedro remembered Anne's soft, willing moans and hardened again. He couldn’t stay near her. A man's vows could only be stretched so far, and his vows were not ductile in the first place. "Fine."
